Last Waltz for Dixie
by Bl00dstain3d
Summary: It's the last waltz for Dixie, it's the last song she'll sing, so play it with pride, for all those who died, And the spirit inside you, That's the Dixie in me. The Confederacy is dissolved. Rated for Character death


Title: Last Waltz For Dixie

Fandom: Hetalia

Rating: M for character death and violence?

Characters: Beau J. (Confed. Am.), Alfred J. (Union AM.)

Authoress Ramblings:

Another Civil War Hetalia song fic. This time, it's "Last Waltz for Dixie" http:/ www(DOT) youtube(DOT)com(BACKSLASH)watch?v=pLBhZBcSxUI#start=0:00;end=4:34;autoreplay=false;showoptions=false

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or Civil War. I do own Beau.

Yes, this is a sequel to Brother, My Brother, and YES you need to read that one first

March 7th 2011: Fixed the wonky formatting before the last paragraph

June 3rd 2011: Fixed more wonky formating and added story info to authors notes

* * *

Alfred sat among the carnage, holding his brother. He let out an anguished scream.

Beau's eyes opened slowly, as he felt raindrops hit his face. What he saw when they opened shocked him. It wasn't raining, Alfred was crying, crying for him. He raised his hand to touch his brother's face.

_Here tonight..._

_As I look upon the faces of my brothers_

_I remember all the others who are gone_

_Safe in his grace_

_Watching over this place_

_With the dawn_

_Into his hands we shall surrender to his glory_

Alfred locked eyes with Beau. The Southerner's eyes were full of surprise. The Northerner's eyes were full of heartbreak. Beau closed his eyes as a grey coated soldier walked up to them. Alfred looked up.

"Is he…?"

Alfred shook his head no. The soldier helped Beau to his feet and helped him walk back to his troops, leaving Alfred kneeling in the bloody mud. Beau looked back at his brother, knowingly. This would be the last time Beau walked off the battlefield, assisted or no. The war was over, and the South had lost, the Confederacy would cease to exist, and with it, Beau. Alfred looked away before standing and rejoining his troops. Beau turned his waning attention back to the task of walking, answering the questions the soldier asked with vague responses.

_And when they tell the story let them say_

_Of the sons of the Gray_

_Not one turned away_

_It's the last waltz for Dixie_

_It's the last song she'll sing_

_So play it with pride_

_For all those who died_

_And the spirit inside you_

_That's the Dixie in me_

Beau was situated in the medical tent, his stomach wound bandaged. Even now, the pain was dimming, there was no hope of turning this around. The Confederacy was through, and Beau was lucky he was still breathing. Beau didn't know of any personification that had survived the dissolution of their country, and he was scared, not that he'd ever admit it. A shot of whiskey was set next to him, for the pain he knew. Vaguely he wondered if they'd give him enough to get him drunk, he really didn't want to face his final hours sober. He stood up, ignoring the sudden flare up of pain, and left the tent. He was the Confederate States of America, and he was damned if he was going to stew in his self-pity anymore. It wasn't a matter of if but when he was going to die, but he was going to make damn sure that he went out with style and Southern pride. His flag still flew in the South, not Alfred's and he was going to make sure that it was his flag he died under.

_I believe_

_There has never been a group of men so splendid_

_Or a cause so well-defended as our own_

_Be it heaven or hell_

_Hail and farewell_

_It's the last waltz for Dixie_

_It's the last song she'll sing_

_So play it with pride_

_For all those who died_

_And the spirit inside you_

_That's the dixie in me_

As he made his way through the camp, he could hear the music and lyrics to his marching song, Bonnie Blue Flag. He hummed along as he made his way towards his general, who was watching the Union across the field. Even with the battle officially over, an attack could come at any time. He could vaguely see his brother doing the same thing. The pain finally overwhelmed him. His vision swam and the ground rushed up to meet him.

When he woke up, he was laying in a very familiar room. It was his own bedroom. He was actually surprised that the house still stood, being so close to the battle he'd just come from. The date was April 9th 1865 according to the letter on his bedside, he'd been out since April 2nd. The letter informed him that his army had surrendered, the war was officially over. He let out a breath, then a curse of pain. By all rights he should have died from his wounds in Alfred's arms a week ago. Hopefully someone had been able to cover that fact up. The last thing he needed was to be accused of devilry.

_For all we hold dear_

_The road ahead is clear_

_For all the things we honor_

_The moment is here_

_It's the last waltz for Dixie_

_It's the last song she'll sing_

* * *

May 5th 1865, Washington, Georgia

* * *

Alfred, Beau, Davis and fourteen other men attended a meeting. The Confederacy was officially dissolved. Beau locked eyes with Alfred.

Alfred's eyes no longer looked haunted, but they did look sad.

Beau's eyes were still blazing.

"The South will rise again"

Beau faded away, leaving behind Texas, which clattered to the floor. Alfred picked them up and put them on, brushing away tears in the process.

_So play it with pride_

_For all those who died_

_And the spirit inside you_

_That's the Dixie in me_


End file.
